Once A Malfoy, Always A Malfoy
by melsmart27
Summary: The war's coming, and Draco is about to become a Death Eater. He doesn't want to, but he doesn't want to fall for Hermione Granger either. Rewritten.
1. Marinated Veal and Sleep

Draco cut the marinated veal, shredding it into tiny slices before placing it in his mouth to chew slowly. Pretending to be consumed in the task, he used all his senses to find out what was happening around him. He could hear aimless chatter coming from the tables around him, and a few caculating whispers from his own. Every now and then he would feel eyes on his form, but he was used to that. After years of being scrawny he had hit puberty in the holidays, and he knew he looked good.  
  
"How's the veal?" Pansy asked, her voice sliding softly over the words.  
  
"Wonderful," he answered. Of all the girls with crushes on him, she was the worst. She seemed to think it was only time before they started dating, and his father didn't try to hide his hints that she was right. Instead he took every opportunity to make it clear to his son what he had in mind for his future. Right hand man to a scrap of a wizard and husband to a whore.  
  
But that wasn't soon enough for Pansy. She wanted it now, and he hadn't given her the answer she wanted. Sliding closer to him she asked in a deep voice, "Could I try some?"  
  
"Of course." He moved his body against hers, causing her to look up at him with her sexiest face on, not aware of the fact that it disgusted him. Reaching his arm past her, he picked up the golden dish of meat. Moving away from Pansy, he offered her the plate.  
  
He could see the disappointment on her face as she took a piece, trying to hide it by keeping intact the sexy attitude that made her a frequent visitor of boy's wet dreams in all four dorms at Hogwarts.  
  
Replacing the dish, he returned to his own food, and his own thought. His father had warned him about trouble to come, but he hadn't noticed anything so far. The school had returned to normal after another one of Harry Potter's great ordeals at the end of last year. The golden trio had calmed down, and even the Slytherins had concealed whatever they thought of it and gone back to smaller schemes, none of which had revealed themselves to include him.  
  
The Malfoy name was too respected to mess with and everybody knew that Draco dealt only through his father, which was a prospect de despised. Lucius was a cold man, who let nothing past him. His son was merely an asset to him. A means to make more alliances and secure what he put as strategic friendships. A prize to show off, standing next to a trophy wife to put on display at the elaborate dinners he held for those loyal to Voldemort.  
  
He felt a leg against his own. Without looking up he knew it was Pansy again, playing her latest trick. It was an interesting mixture of hard-to- get and you-can-have-me-right-now. He had seen it up close last week when she used it on Blaise, sliding close to him and using her sexiest pout until he was practically drooling, but talking to the people around her like nothing was going on. When it reached the point that he would have one anything to have her, she lent onto his opposite shoulder, pressing his erection into her back. Draco had seen her glossed lips whisper in his ear, and they had left the hall in a matter of seconds.  
  
But he wasn't as easy as Blaise. He had learnt to control his emotions from an early age, which helped him now, not in concealing lust but rage. He wanted nothing more than to push the slut off him and leave the wretched table where you couldn't even choose something to eat before deciding whether it was to the best advantage to you, and what your father would think. But he wasn't in Slytherin for nothing. He continued his meal slowly, pretending to savor the flavour, but in actual fact waiting. She would break before he would.  
  
After a few minuets, Draco finished what was on his plate. Draining his goblet, he set it back on the table. Pansy obviously thought he had meant it as a sign. She leant back on him, but as she did so, she realized it was too early. He almost laughed as he saw it on her face. Slytherins were supposed to be better at hiding their emotions. But she always relied on the ample cleavage she displayed usually drawing eyes away from her face.  
  
"You seem tired." She whispered, trying to cover her mistake.  
  
"We were practicing for two hours," he replied calmly. "Don't you remember? I thought you were there."  
  
"I was," she cooed. As amusement formed on his features, she tried to change tactics. "Blaise did wonderfully."  
  
It was all he could do to contain his laughter. "I'm sure he'd love to hear it." Easing her weight off him, he stood up. "I'm turning in." He turned to leave the table, but Pansy was still in tow.  
  
"I find it much easier to sleep when I'm not by myself." She murmured.  
  
"Really?," his suave tone hinted on boredom. "I hate company when I'm trying to sleep."  
  
"You can't mean that." She contradicted.  
  
"I assure you I do." He pushed her off him again. "But I'm sure Blasie would be happy to indulge you."  
  
Leaving her standing alone in the hallway with her indignation, he made his way back to the dungeons, thinking about what had just happened. Pansy had come on much stronger than ever. That could only mean one thing. Lucius had intervened. His hints had never been concealed, but he had to have made it clear last time they talked he was hers. What a wonderful fatherly action.  
  
The question to be pondered now was why. He knew what was expected of him, and it was to marry Pansy after he had gotten a name for himself in the Voldemort's circle. Dating for too long without marriage wouldn't look good for his father, so if he thought it was time for them to get close- it was nearly time for him to be branded on his left arm.  
  
Not something he looked forward to. Having a skull and snakes tattooed onto him forever with nearly constant pain, which you would forget about while torturing others was not high on his to-do list. Blackmailing, cursing and being an all-round ass-hole every day for the rest of his life he could manage easily, but if he had to do it he didn't want it to be in the name of something more snake-like than human.  
  
Medusa looking imperiously down at him from her portrait with the snakes in her hair devouring each other brought him to him senses. "sanguinans coluber" he murmered. The lady smiled eerily at him, revealing her pointed teeth, and it swung open to reveal more cold stone with flashes of silver and green silk in the furniture.  
  
Stepping into the room, he made a point of surveying the room. Not many people noticed. Even most of the 7th years had accepted that Draco was one of, if not the most important people in Slytherin house. Some tried to make friendships with his power, but most stayed away, happy to ally themselves with those they had less reason to fear.  
  
Storing away the location of everyone and their activities, he dismissed it from his immediate thoughts. It was more a matter of showing his authority than finding out information. Striding through the common room, he reached his dorm. Muttering another password he had installed himself, he entered the bedroom he shared with no one he would care to see at the moment.  
  
Reaching his bed, he pulled the curtains around his bed shut. Finally alone, he threw himself on it, the thoughts in his mind still whirling around and confusing him.  
  
He had always known he didn't want to become his father, but what choice did he have? There was no point in giving his life for a bunch of muggle- borns, when all it would do would give wonder boy Potter something to think about.  
  
The door opened, but Draco was barely noticed. He was in his own world, deep in thought about the war. He was trying to remember exactly what his father had said about it. It was vague in his memory. Something about fighting on the right side. Something about finally living in a pureblood world.  
  
But he didn't like those somethings. He couldn't live in a world like that. Killing those that his father deemed unequal. Tormenting those below him.  
  
He heard a rustle of fabric. Noticing a manicured hand on the edge of the curtain, he silently swore to himself about forgetting to replace the security charm.  
  
"Draco?" a high voice simpered, the hand pulling the curtains further from the wall to expose Pansy's well-formed body.  
  
As the image started to unfold, Draco fought to get a grip on himself. When he managed it, he closed his eyes and let his shallow, silent breaths deepen.  
  
The rustling stopped, and he heard a sigh. "Asleep already?" assuming he was really out to it, she didn't bothing even trying to hide the frustration.  
  
He felt her warm breath on his face as she leaned closer to him, checking to see if he really was asleep. Obviously deciding he was, she whispered to him "Goodnight," and sealed it with a kiss on the cheek. Carefully returning the curtains to their original positions.  
  
When he thought she had had enough time to leave, Draco opened the curtains once more. Muttering words to the chest at the bottom of his bed, he placed his hand on the lock, and it clicked open. Removing his school bag and a silvery cloak, he slipped it on. Checking in the mirror to check he was completely covered. Slipping back into the common room, he made his way to the portrait, knowing that if anyone did notice him, they wouldn't dare say anything.  
  
He kept his feet as silent as possible until he reached the library. Grateful to reach his sanctuary, he pulled off the cloak and chose a table near the back. Taking out his parchment, he started to write, forgetting for a time his troubles.  
  
* * * A/N: What do you think? I changed it a lot, and I moved what used to be the first chapter to later in the story. Please review! I'll try hard to update soon, I know this is the first time in a while. 


	2. Tantrum at Breakfast

Draco helped himself to another muffin. He had stayed up late last night, working on Arithmacy. He was pleased with the fact that not only had he finished the assignment but done some further research and found another meaning to the charts. Pleased with himself, he sat contently at the Slytherin table, aware that Pansy had not yet arrived and no one was concentrating on him, so he could relax.  
  
As he chewed his muffin, his eyes flittered to the Gryfindor Table. They all looked so happy just to be alive, and enjoying each other's company, sure that no matter what would come in the future, they would always have happy memories of their time at Hogwarts.  
  
He was drawn to Hermione. She was a part of the trio, but she seemed more sensible. He knew she was top in all her classes. He would love to test her in Arithmacy, but he had it with the Hufflepuffs and her with the Ravenclaws.  
  
With an acute sense for when she was being watched, Hermione scanned the hall for the eyes that had stayed so long on her form. They reached Draco's. He could read no emotion in them, see no thoughts on her face. Anger rushed up inside him. Why wouldn't she turn away? Why did she have to hold his gaze? She was judging him. Making assumptions because of his name.  
  
Suddenly, he stood up, ignoring the calculating glances of the other Slytherins that were meant to appear caring, and the suspicious glares from the other three houses, sure that he was off to go do something evil. Would he ever be free of his reputation? Would he ever just be able to go and come as he pleased, not watched and followed at every turn?  
  
He thudded through the halls in a temper. They had no right to judge him. They didn't care. They just wanted to label him a death eater and ship him into exile. They didn't know what he had been through. The angry words, the beatings. Seeing his mother...  
  
He thrust it out of his mind. "They can go to hell" he told himself savagely. But another voice spoke up. "That's where you're going if you keep this up."  
  
Snarling, he smashed his fist into the wall, but ended up with nothing more that bleeding knuckles. He needed to do something. No matter what he thought of them, he couldn't let them die. He couldn't let his father's plan be put into motion. It was something he hadn't even entrusted to him, so it must be bad. He had to do something. Anything.  
  
Slumping against the wall, he ran the options through his head. But none of them would work. Not matter what he tried, his father would find out, and Lucius was not a man to mess with. He would know immediately if his son was getting in his way, and then Draco's life wouldn't be worth living.  
  
Snape floated into the chaos of his thoughts. Draco had known he was a spy ever since he had overheard a conversation he had had with Dumbledore. But that information he had kept to himself. He hadn't known why, but he didn't want to tell his father that the surly old man was fighting for the other side. But know he knew. Snape was right. What good was working for some half-blood freak who demanded your total loyalty. What good was killing people because they had parents different than yours.  
  
Draco decided to go to him. He would know what to do. He would help him. Draco wasn't going to kid himself. He knew Lucius would have no regrets about killing him if he found out he didn't want to follow in his footsteps. Becoming a spy would be dangerous, but it would be worth it. To see his father and Voldemort go down would be worth anything. Even his life.  
  
Standing back up, he resumed walking down the hall- this time with purpose in his step, making his way to Snape's office. The Potions Master never stayed at the dinner long. He should be there by now.  
  
* * * A/N: How's that? I was worried it might be going to quickly, but it seemed to work. Please review and tell me what you think! 


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